


Listen to the Mockingbird

by yolkipalki



Series: Dandelion Wine [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Rape, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27572575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yolkipalki/pseuds/yolkipalki
Summary: Geralt wasn’t coming back.No one was going to save him this time.It was possible Geralt already knew he was there. This is what the witcher had wanted anyway, wasn’t it?For someone to take Jaskier off his hands and take him they did."Very well then, I suppose we’re done here." She stood curtly and turned to the guards that stood at the door. "Do what you will with him, he is of no use to me anymore." She paused, smoothing her hand over the crushed velvet of her cloak. "On second thought, keep him alive long enough to show her what her future holds. Perhaps that will convince her to be more...forthcoming."The second installment of my drabble whump series. Please mind the tags. You have been warned. It is more than just dark.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Dandelion Wine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015449
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83





	Listen to the Mockingbird

**Author's Note:**

> This is your last warning. This is graphic, drawn from real violence and depravity. There is violence, blood, and rape. If you do not wish to see or read these things please do not read it. 
> 
> The precursor to Dandelion Wine but second in the series tentatively being called "Dandelion Wine" I'm working on it. I'm sorry.
> 
> There are Reasons that these have been retitled. Thanks for understanding.

**LISTEN TO THE MOCKINGBIRD**

* * *

**by Lemon (honey lemon trashcat)**

* * *

_There had been a time where, foolishly, he had hoped. He had hoped that if he just told them the truth, told them everything he knew, did as they asked then maybe it would end. Somewhere deep in the shreds of his mind, the thought had echoed again and again and again._

_It had started with a desperate plea for some reprieve. If he was good, maybe they would stop._

_If he did what they said if he simply complied it would be over sooner._

_If I'm good they'll stop._

_If I'm good they might._

_If I'm good._

_Oh God's, make it stop._

_Stop._

“I’m afraid you’ve picked the wrong captive, darling. If you hoped the witcher would come for me, you’re sorely mistaken. Should've tried Yennefer if you were hoping to garner his attention.” The satisfaction he got from seeing her face twist in irritation was quickly snuffed out by the ache. By saying it out loud he was admitting to himself that it was true. 

Geralt wasn’t coming back. 

No one was going to save him this time. 

It was possible Geralt already knew he was there. This is what the witcher had wanted anyway, wasn’t it? 

For someone to take Jaskier off his hands and take him they did. 

"Very well then, I suppose we’re done here." She stood curtly and turned to the guards that stood at the door. "Do what you will with him, he is of no use to me anymore." She paused, smoothing her hand over the crushed velvet of her cloak. "On second thought, keep him alive long enough to show her what her future holds. Perhaps that will convince her to be more...forthcoming." 

_It was funny in a way… he had heard of a breaking point, a turning point, or the last straw. When someone had taken all they could and could bear no more._

He thought of it now as they loosened the shackles that held him to the wall and he fell to his knees with the full weight of his body, arms still outstretched against the wall painfully. Before he could take a deep breath, someone grabbed him by the hair. He looked up just in time to feel someone press the leather of trousers to his face, smothering him. He could feel the man’s cock hardening against his face. 

_Great_.

Jaskier wasn’t as stupid as everyone believed him to be. The first man to take him was the one they had called Aleksandr. Jaskier braced himself, trying to take deep breaths before the inevitable suffocation. He needed to calm down, his stomach was already on the verge of turning. 

Aleksandr moaned vulgarities while he struggled to undo the laces of his trousers. Probably would’ve been easier if the bastard had stopped bucking his hips in the air. Jaskier didn’t fight the look of disgust that curled his lips. 

_Like a hound._

Aleksandr ran his fingers through Jaskier's hair, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking it upwards as he freed his aching cock with the other hand. 

"You gonna sing for me now? Mm? ….oh _fuck_. Yeah…" 

_No one ever told him that after that the breaking point splinters someone, after it destroys them irreparably, that they can break again. Quite intimately he had learned that someone can fracture into a thousand pieces over...and over...and over again. Until the pieces are so small they are no longer distinguishable. He began to forget what they ever were to him in the first place, and worse, to wonder if it mattered._

Faster and harder now. Harder to breathe, to keep from choking. The wails of protest sound more like desperate moans when you're being throatfucked against a wall. 

_Gods, he just wasn’t really sure what mattered anymore. When he tried to recall, he could almost remember, like waking from a dream and retelling it to another. He seemed to have cared very deeply about his hands. He had begged and pleaded as they mutilated and mangled them but he couldn't seem to remember why that had mattered._

Tears rolled down his cheeks, he wished they were from sorrow...might've felt some shred of catharsis from it. But they were simply a result of gagging and choking, fighting the urge to dry heave on the cock in his mouth. He let the tears swell and fall from his eyes as his nose began to run. It was getting harder to breathe. 

_At some point he had been afraid of what would happen each time he broke, worried if he would lose a piece of himself and never find it again. Somewhere along the way he simply stopped worrying. Soon it became like a climax, a high to chase after. He would suffer until he broke and then he would sink deep into the thrumming numb that warmed his bones. Safe for a time and blissfully disjointed._

Suddenly the guard stopped. He was close and he desperately wanted it to last. He braced himself with one hand on the wall and Jaskier seized the opportunity to at least attempt to catch his breath and blink the tears from his eyes. The other guards were talking but he didn’t care enough to try and listen. The moment of reprieve was almost enough to ease the tension in his chest. His mind flitted from here to there like a caged bird, amongst the chaos words like a rote, over and over again in his mind. He couldn't seem to remember the tune. He knew that he knew it. 

_Woke up one bright morning,_   
_Woke up in the rain,_   
_Woke up to the sunshine and the pain_

He had found that breaking a bone was not the most painful part. When a bone finally broke it no longer moaned and creaked under the pressure and the same was true for the mind. The break was an agonizing release, the pain is all but gone, nothing more than a residual ache, a reminder. 

The guards across the small room were bickering amongst themselves and hardening at the sight before them. The only others who had been privy to his pain. They argued over who would claim their prize next. 

_Somewhere along the way, he had stopped struggling, finding that it was easier and far less painful to just_ ** _let it happen._ **

_Just let it happen._

_Stood out in the rosebuds,_

_Stood out in the dew,_   
_Stood out in the clear and got a clue_

He choked, as his mouth filled with heat, he tried to pull back but the hand held him fast. Aleksandr held his hips flush against Jaskier as he spent down his throat, bucking so hard it smashed Jaskier’s head into the wall. He tried to adapt, to swallow but he only managed to gag, He had no choice but to try and recover by swallowing but it simply wasn’t enough. His whole body heaved and tears fell freely from his eyes. The reprieve came in whimpering gulps as he tried to navigate around the cock down his throat. It was loud and he could hear the other guards grumble in approval. The acrid mess burned.

 _That's what you get for getting distracted._ He chided himself, dryly. 

"Who's next?" His hoarse voice barely made it past his lips. They stared at him. Weakly he cleared his throat again. "Did you not hear me, gentlemen? I said 'Who's next?'"Struggling had been his act of defiance, now his defiance was his complacency, his willingness. 

_Woke up one bright morning,_   
_Woke up in the rain,_   
_Woke up to the sunshine and the pain_

He smirked, at no one in particular, and then he slipped into darkness.

_Listen to the mockingbird_   
_Sing his sweet song,_   
_Listen to the mockingbird_   
_And know that life goes on._

* * *

As he woke from his sleep to the nightmare that had become his waking world, he thought of warm bread. His bare chest pressed against the cold stone and the frigid air kissed the raw, hot abrasions on his back and shoulders. It was actually rather soothing, his arms finally freed from the weight of his body, and his body flush against the ground. 

_Fresh bread was warm and soft and it smelled...well, he couldn’t quite remember what it smelled like but he seemed to remember he had been rather fond of it._

His ankles were unshackled as the man spread his legs and, with ease pulled his loose and ragged trousers from his waist. 

_Bread required effort. It took time to cultivate, to knead, to bake, and cool but it never lasted._

_It never lasted. So much work for something so fleeting._

The weight of the body ground his hips into the floor and scraped against the fragile skin where they kissed the ground. As it thrust into him splitting him open, his body jerked violently and scraped his chest in kind across the rough floor. It was a whetstone that ground away layers of him as it went. 

Piece by piece by piece it sloughed him off inside and out. 

He couldn’t help but wonder what would be left when this was all over.

_Inevitably it would be consumed by the hungry or left to stale until it dried out and crumbled._

"Be a good lad and play along won you swee'art?" He recognized the voice. This was Izaak. Izaak wasn’t just violent, he was cruel. 

Jaskier tried to focus on every sensation rather than flirting with the twisted ideas that curled at the edges of his waking mind. He heard the words first as if someone else had said it, but it was his voice. 

“Harder.” 

Izaak stopped. “What was that?” 

“I said...I said h-harder.” 

Jaskier let himself sob silently into the rough stone as Izaak broke the skin and ripped flesh. The cramping pressure in his chest felt like it would snap his ribs like the bones of a bird. 

_There’s that cathartic cry. Now, couldn’t you have gotten yourself that without getting fucked to death by some degenerate that probably has an entire cabinet of venereal diseased, hmm?_

  
  


The pace set was rough and fast, lubricated, and slicked with blood. It was quickening. He braced himself for the pain as the man reached around his front. He hissed as the chainmail shirt pressed into the open wounds of his back blood and plasma leaking from the wounds and slicking his back. The guard laughed, sandwiching a large arm between Jaskier’s pelvis and the cold floor, and grabbed him with his rough palm. 

_No._

_No, no, no._

_There it was._

He panicked and with what little strength he had left he tried to scramble from beneath the larger man. Booming laughter vibrated through his chest.

“Oh no, you don’t.” 

A burst of bright white blinded him, then darkness consumed him as Izaak pulled his head up by a handful of hair directly above his ear and smashed his head into the floor. Operating purely on instinct he tried to pull himself away but his hands, mangled and frozen, would not comply. 

“You wanted it harder.” Izaak laughed, as he turned Jaskier’s limp head to the other side, fingering the wound and making a hissing wince. His lips pressed against Jaskier’s ear and he inhaled deeply, reveling in the feeling of the cold flesh beneath him prickle.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” 

The hand reached around once more, lubricated with the blood from the split in Jaskier’s scalp. Still dazed, he didn’t fight the moans that escaped him as his body betrayed his fraying mind. Instead, mindlessly...instinctually he rotated his hips, leaning further into it, and swallowing the bile that blistered his throat. 

_He used to struggle, used to bite through his lip until he tasted salt and blood, used to scream and scramble, beg and claw._

_Used to..._

_It was crumbling now. It was no longer fresh and warm and soft. It was stale and smelt of the dirty tang of mold. It prickled his fingers and crackled as he crumbled it into dust._

The man shouted as he thrust again, this time smashing one hand into the back of Jaskier's hair as he braced himself. As he shuddered into him, the guard continued to stroke Jaskier. Harder and heavier and faster until he squirmed against the pavement, feeling the sticky heat pool beneath him.

And he broke.

_Ruined._

* * *

The world began to form and pool around him like melting wax. He smelled mildew and salt, he heard the dripping of the wet stone and the grumblings of a woman and felt the frozen floor beneath his cold body. As his senses returned he felt a panic ignite in him like a flame. 

_Woke up one..._ _rain,_

_Woke_

_Woke up to the sun...the pain_

_Listen, listen and_ _know that life goes on._

He couldn’t see. 

Oh, gods, he couldn’t see.

He could feel the blood gushing from his head like an undertow, gently pulling him back to sleep. Rest bade him enter and oh how he wished to answer her call. 

A voice shook him from the warmth of rest.

“Get up.” The woman snarled. “I get it. You’re cold, you’re tired, you’re hungry. Were you expecting _Toussaint_?”

  
  


_Yennefer_?

  
  
  



End file.
